


In Running Away, She Found a King

by KoraKwidditch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, F/M, Feelings Realization, Forced Marriage, Fred Weasley Dies, George Weasley Needs a Hug, Light Angst, POV Daphne Greengrass, References to Depression, Running Away, Sad George Weasley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29659962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoraKwidditch/pseuds/KoraKwidditch
Summary: No castle could have two kings, but maybe it needed a queen.
Relationships: Daphne Greengrass/George Weasley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13
Collections: Tag(line) You're It! Competition





	In Running Away, She Found a King

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Tagline_Youre_It_Comp_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Tagline_Youre_It_Comp_2020) collection. 



> As a mod of this fest, I am ineligible for awards, but I still wanted to participate! I decided to do Anarchy and have my prompt, trope, and pairing chosen for me! Here's what I got:
> 
> **Prompt:**
> 
> "No castle can have two kings." (The Last Castle)  
> Trope: Neighbors AU  
> Pairing: George Weasley/Daphne Greengrass
> 
> This was so fun to write since I don't normally write angst!(even if this is light lol) 
> 
> Please go read the rest of the competition and VOTE VOTE VOTE!!(check out the collection page for a link to voting)
> 
> Thank you to FaeOrabel for beating, and feelingofthesea for alphaing!

_ Mother and Father would appreciate you returning home. I know it’s probably the last thing you want to do, but think of the family. Marcus seems a decent man… once you get past the crooked teeth.  _

_ At the very least, tell me where you are so I can come see you. _

_ Love,  _

_ Astoria _

Daphne crumbled the letter in her hand and chucked it into the fireplace. The orange flames ate the paper in one swallow, but Astoria’s words still lingered. They echoed in her mind, her parents' voices screaming them at her. 

It had only been two weeks since she ran away from home, yet it felt like a lifetime. Daphne had been promised to Marcus Flint, their fathers arranging everything behind her back. Marcus was presented to her on a silver platter as if she should be thankful even to get a crumb. 

He was vile. Daphne knew all about him from school; how evil and twisted he was. The idea of marrying him disgusted her, so she did the only thing she could think of. 

She ran. 

Two weeks later, life found her with a flat of her own and a job at The Leaky. It was meagre pay, barely enough to cover her rent, but it was her first job, and Daphne loved it. She loved the people she spoke with—even her Hufflepuff coworker, Hannah Abbott, was friendly enough. 

No one knew who Daphne was, and it was a freeing feeling, even if she had to glamour her normally blond hair to a horrible mousy brown and give a fake name. She certainly couldn’t risk her parents or sister figuring out where she was. 

This was the first letter Astoria had sent her since she left. How the blasted owl found her, Daphne didn’t know. She only hoped no one had tried to follow it. 

Grabbing a small scrap of paper, Daphne scribbled down a simple message—one that she hoped conveyed just how she felt about an arranged marriage to Flint. 

_ Tell Mother and Father to fuck off. _

_ -Daphne _

She smirked as she tied it to the owl’s legs. Daphne could only imagine the uproar her words would cause in the Greengrass household. No doubt her father would curse her name, and her mother would swoon. Her smirk stayed on her lips as the bird flew off to deliver her message. It even stayed as she got ready for her night shift. 

The moment she stepped out of her flat, however, it fell from her face. 

George Weasley stood across from her, fiddling with the half-broken lock of his flat door. He wore that ugly purple suit that clashed disgustingly with his ginger locks. As she shut the door behind her, George turned to look at Daphne with a sheepish grin. 

“Hey,  _ Dahlia _ .”

Daphne pressed her lips together and glared at George. He always said her fake name as if he didn’t believe it was hers. Yet, he never asked questions. He never once inquired anything about her life. 

“Weasley,” Daphne replied, stepping down the hall. 

“No, I don’t need help with my lock!” George called out after her. “I’m quite content to sleep in the hall!” 

“I’m sure Mrs Donnelly would be happy to have you join her tonight!” 

George’s laughter rang clear through the hall as Daphne stepped into the stairwell. She would deny it later, but it did cause the triumphant smirk to return. 

It was still quite odd to her that he chose to have a dingy apartment rather than stay at his shop, but everyone knew the twins were a bizarre pair anyways. Well, twin, since Fred had died during the war. Daphne wondered what it was like to lose a twin. Did it feel like losing a piece of yourself? 

She couldn’t even imagine that type of loss. How did George manage to bear it? He always seemed to be so upbeat and carefree. When she moved in, he immediately came over and introduced himself, even saying if she visited the shop, he would give her some items for free. 

It was hard to believe next month would be five years since the Battle of Hogwarts. It still felt like yesterday, and yet like it had been some fever dream at the same time. 

Her father forbade her from fighting on either side, something that still ate at her nightly. She would have been more than happy to hex a Death Eater or two. Astoria always said if it weren’t for the family legacy of being in Slytherin, Daphne would have made a good Gryffindor. 

The day passed by in a blur of customers and alcohol. With only ten minutes to go until her shift ended, Daphne busied herself behind the bar. Hannah usually handled the cleanup, but Daphne didn’t like to stay idle. 

“Could I get a large butterbeer, please?” 

Daphne closed her eyes and mentally prepared herself, turning to the grinning face of George. Empty cups and plates levitated behind his head, zooming forward to pile in the sink. Daphne scowled and grabbed a clean mug. 

“Of course,  _ sir _ .” Daphne angrily poured him a butterbeer from the enchanted large jug, foam frothing to the brim. Some of the hot liquid spilt down the side as the glass clunked heavily on the wood. “Six sickles.” 

George whistled low as he grabbed the handle. “Twice as much as The Three Broomsticks.” 

Daphne gave a small mock laugh as she turned back to the dishes, flicking her wand at the sponge. She could feel George’s eyes on her back as she angrily watched the plates get scrubbed and dried. 

“How was your day, George? Oh, fantastic, Dahlia, thank you for asking. How was yours?” George’s irritating voice said behind her, his tone sarcastic. 

Daphne whipped around, her ugly brown locks swaying in the air. “My day was fine up until you came here, Weasley.” She placed a hand on the bar top and leant forward, levelling him with a glare. Rage and electricity crackled between them. She could see every freckle on his face as she flickered between looking at them and into his eyes. 

“I wonder what I’ve done to irritate you so much,” George whispered, their faces only inches apart. He glanced down to her lips. “Daphne.” 

It was as if a bucket of ice had been dumped over her head. Daphne moved back quickly, surprise and a small bit of terror running through her veins. “Please don’t tell anyone,” she said, the automatic response sounding pathetic. “You  _ can’t  _ tell anyone.” 

George only replied with a grin as he sipped his butterbeer. 

Daphne sneered and moved closer to him, “What do you want for your silence?” 

She expected him to ask for something dirty, like one night together or a special favour. It’s what most men she knew would’ve asked for. But George wasn’t most men.

“Come to the Gala with me this weekend.” 

The choked laugh that left Daphne’s lips was unexpected. George was crazy. Delusional. 

“You’re joking, right?” Daphne muttered, bending her head lower. “My parents will be there. My  _ sister  _ will be there. Absolutely not.” 

“We’ll strengthen your glamour up, and if we see them, we’ll walk to the opposite side of the room. They won’t want to talk to me, anyway.” 

George’s fingers gripped his mug tightly. Daphne could see his knuckles turn white with the strain. She glanced back up to his eyes, the light amber brown twinkling with apparent mischief. 

“The gala is in two days. How do you expect me to get a dress by then?” Daphne asked, straightening up to put much-needed distance between them. She was glad the Leaky was mostly empty; she knew she was much too close than what was considered proper. 

“You’re off soon, aren’t you?” George grinned and downed his butterbeer. “Madame Malkins is open until seven, and she owes me a favour.”

* * *

Daphne stared at herself in the mirror, her hands running up and down her dress’s smooth fabric. George would pick her up for the Gala any minute, and Daphne’s stomach hadn’t stopped flipping for the last hour. She quickly checked her glamour for the twentieth time, spelling her brown hair to be a tinge darker. George had taught her a new spell similar to a disillusionment charm, but not quite as powerful. She would simply look like another in the crowd. 

A soft knock sounded at the door, making Daphne jump. She quickly walked to it, taking a deep breath before opening the dark woo. George stood in front of her, his maroon tux matching the colour of her dress. 

“I must say, you would’ve made one hell of a Gryffindor.” George grinned, offering his arm. 

Daphne reluctantly tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow. They walked out into the cool night air, apparating to Whitehall and just outside the Ministry employee entrance. Daphne wrinkled her nose as they stepped through, briefly waiting in line before flushing themselves down. 

She panicked a moment as the green flames of the Ministry’s Floo network deposited her in the crowd all alone. But George was by her side immediately, taking charge and leading them towards the centre of the Atrium.

It was decorated beautifully; floating candles cast a faint orange glow on the open, reflective space. As Daphne’s eyes moved around the room to take in the splendour, her eyes instantly found the three people that always made her stomach roll. 

Her parents and sister stood only thirty feet away, their proud demeanour palpable. Astoria stood on the arm of Theodore Nott, both of them speaking quietly. That was new. 

Daphne tightened her grip on George’s arm, and he followed her gaze. 

“C’mon,” he said, pulling her in the opposite direction. “I want you to meet my parents.” 

Pulling her eyes from her family, the ache in Daphne’s chest lessened the further they got from them. No one looked at her as they weaved through the crowd, the charms and glamours doing their job. 

The familiar conglomerate of the red-haired family stood out like a sore thumb. George’s parents instantly brightened upon seeing him, and Daphne felt jealousy settle like a boulder in her stomach. 

“George, dear!” his mother exclaimed, pulling him into a tight embrace. “Who is your lovely date?” 

“This is Dahlia. Dahlia, my mum, Molly.” 

Molly pulled her into a gentle hug, and Daphne stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do. George introduced her to the rest of his family. She knew them all already, of course. Who wouldn’t after the War? 

“And this is Bill,” George said, pointing at a tall man with scars down his face. Bill gave her a gentle smile, inclining his head in greeting. 

Daphne perked up instantly. “You’re a curse-breaker for Gringotts, aren’t you?” 

Curse-breaking had always been something Daphne loved. She had wanted to be one from a young age, but obviously, her father didn’t allow it. He forbade everything that didn’t involve her becoming a good little pureblood wife.

“Yes, I am!” Bill said politely. “Are you interested in curse-breaking?” 

Daphne gave an enthusiastic nod. “Is it true that you recently went to Egypt because Muggles found an old crypt that had a thousand-year-old curse on it?” 

The group around them laughed, and Daphne suddenly remembered where she was. With a red-hot face, she tucked herself further into George. She felt comfortable with him, like he was a crutch she could lean on. The realisation was a bit unnerving—she’d never felt like that with anyone, not even her own sister. Suddenly aware of just how attractive she found George, Daphne quickly dropped his arm and put a small breadth of distance between them. George frowned but said nothing. 

“Yes, we did,” Bill answered. “Found several valuable items for the goblins.” 

Daphne was still awe-struck, but not wanting to be laughed at again, she smiled and nodded politely. Thankfully, after a moment of awkward silence, Fleur pulled him to the dance floor, and the subject was dropped. 

“I didn’t know you had such an interest in curse-breaking,” George muttered to her. 

Daphne bristled and haughtily sniffed. “I’m sure there’s quite a lot you don’t know about me.” 

George gave her a grin, “Very true. Do you like to dance?” 

“Not if I can help it,” Daphne replied. “But I wouldn’t mind watching.” 

George placed his hand at the small of her back, the tentative weight settling on her spine. Tingles broke over Daphne's skin, goosebumps coating her flesh as George led them to the edge of the dance floor. The crowd was so thick Daphne had to press against George, though he didn’t seem to mind much. 

They watched the couples sway back and forth, her eyes finding the stunning figures of Fleur and Bill. Their elegant moves outdid everyone around them. She continued to track the faces of the crowd, keeping a sharp eye out for her parents and Astoria. Everyone around them was familiar, many of them she knew from school or social functions. Daphne sent a silent prayer to Merlin that no one would see through her glamour. 

“George,” Daphne muttered, a question springing to mind. “How did you see through my glamour? How did you know it was me?”

Her gaze stayed on the dancers, but she saw George pat his breast-pocket from the corner of her eye. Metal softly clacked beneath the fabric. 

“See-Thru glasses. We invented it back during the War, but they were a bit too powerful. We worried the wrong sort would get ahold of them, so we never produced more than a few. They can see through any glamour,” George said proudly. “When you introduced yourself as Dahlia, I was instantly suspicious. I had never seen you before, and I remember  _ everyone’s  _ face from school.” 

George’s thumb brushed against the exposed skin of her back, making Daphne shiver. “Gotta say, you’re brilliant at them. I had to mess with the charms a bit to get them stronger.”

Daphne blinked in shock. She was impressed; she knew the twins were brilliant, but she didn’t expect skill of that level. 

Just as she opened her mouth to retort, a burly figure pressed beside her. Daphne glanced over to the squashed face of Marcus Flint. Lucian Bole snickered beside him, both of them ignoring her as they sneered at the faces of the dancers. 

Daphne pressed into George, her heart hammering in her ears. Marcus was right next to her, only a few inches away. She suddenly felt the need to escape.

George gripped her shoulder tightly, “Are you alright?” 

Daphne turned into him further, “Is there somewhere else we can go?” 

Nodding, George grabbed her hand, pulling her through the crowd and to an enchanted terrace on the far side of the Atrium. Since they were underground, it was obviously fake, but the air was still cool as they stepped through the door. The charmed space above them looked like the night sky, imitation stars twinkling through soft clouds. 

Daphne rushed to the railing, bending over it slightly to calm herself. She took full breaths, closing her eyes briefly as she settled her racing heart. 

“Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine,” Daphne muttered. “It was just too hot in there.” 

George leant on the railing next to her, his arm brushing hers. “Are you sure it didn’t have anything to do with Flint?”

Daphne’s gaze snapped to his, finding concern lacing his features. She suddenly felt sorry for the way she treated him the last few weeks. Here he was, being worried for her. Helping her. Though she supposed it was his fault in the first place that she was even here. 

“He’s my fiancé,” she whispered, the words turn to ash in her mouth. “Arranged, obviously. He’s vile. It’s why I ran away. Why I’m in a glamour all the time, and why I live in that shabby apartment.” 

Daphne looked across the garden, the charmed plants shimmering. Silence hung heavily between them; no doubt in her mind that George was figuring out a way to get out of their agreement. 

“Why do you live there?” Daphne asked before George could make a get-away. She had to know the answer to this at least; it had bothered her since she moved in. “Doesn’t the shop make decent money? It always seems so busy.”

George sighed, a frown turning his lips down. “We lived in that apartment when we first bought the shop. The upstairs had to be renovated to a flat, so obviously we couldn’t live there without a loo.” A sad chuckle left his lips. “We kept it when the renovations finished just in case. And then the war happened—I couldn’t stay in the shop anymore. It’s too big, too...quiet. Being in that flat makes me happy. I feel closer to Fred when I’m there.” 

Daphne placed her hand gently on his arm, “I’m sorry, George. I can’t even imagine—”

“No castle can have two kings, right?” George smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I just can’t believe tomorrow will be five years. It still doesn’t feel real most days. I always expect Fred to walk into the store any minute when I’m there or call for me from another room when I’m home.” 

George placed his hand over hers, his calloused thumb rubbing her wrist. “Thank you for coming with me tonight. It’s hard for me to be here, but I enjoy being with you. It’s made it easier.” 

Daphne nodded, and when George looked down at her, she realised their faces were close—much too close. The tips of their noses touched as they leant into each other. Then George closed his eyes and softly brushed his lips to hers, and fire raced down her spine. 

George stood straight, pressing her back to the railing, his hands gripping her hips tightly. Daphne fought back a moan as his mouth hungrily devoured hers. Wetness began to stream down his cheeks, causing the taste of salt to coat her tongue. 

George pulled away slightly; a few tears trailed down his cheeks. “Will you stay with me tonight?” 

His warm breath ghosted across her face, and Daphne looked up in surprise. “I—I don’t…” 

“No,” Geroge said, leaning closer to her. “Not that. I just… Tonight would be a lot easier if I had someone to fall asleep with. And it’ll make waking up easier, too.” 

Daphne opened and closed her mouth. She didn’t know what to say or how to answer. She barely knew George, but she had never felt anything except comfortable around him, even when she was mad. 

“Please,” he whispered, resting his forehead to hers. “When I’m alone, there’s nothing. But when I’m with you, I feel  _ everything _ .” 

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Daphne couldn’t help but nod. George’s eager lips returned to hers, and this time, she didn’t fight her feelings. She allowed herself to get swept into the passion, allowed herself to fill the crack George had in his heart. And he, in turn, filled hers.

Daphne didn’t know what this meant. If this was only once, or more than. He needed her, and she needed him; the aftermath could wait. For now, Daphne relished in the gentle caresses and soft brushes of his lips. The squeeze of his fingers in her hair. The heat of their legs tangled together. 

No castle could have two kings, but maybe it needed a queen. 


End file.
